She saw it every day
by LilyRite
Summary: Addison's marriage is over. She wanted to be needed, she needed to be wanted. I warn you this is not a happy fic. please R&R.


**She wanted to be needed, she needed to be wanted.**

_Gemma gets the blame for all my fics, irrelevant of whether she actually watches this show or not._

_My beta Sophie is my friend, my lover and…..oh wait, no she is just the first one, I got carried away. I love her dearly and hope I have many more fics to burden her with._

_Kelly also deserves a shout out for being a very patient beta before this fic and a good friend. I know you don't have the time to beta for me anymore but you rocked my last story and I wouldn't have enjoyed posting it without you. Why the hell are you never online anymore?_

_Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. I wish I did but I am far too young and far too stupid. But can we not mention that again because it makes me sad._

_Spoilers: I wrote this before I saw the season 2 finale (which i was completely unspoiled for) so it can summarised as pre-season 3 with a little flexibility._

Addison saw it every day. Every time Derek looked at Meredith, when Meredith looked at Derek, Addison watched Derek daydream. Derek was dreaming about Meredith, but Addison chose to ignore it. She was protecting herself, she didn't want to face the truth. As strong and as confident as she seemed to the outside world, inside she was scared and alone, and tried at all costs to keep that to herself.

But she couldn't ignore it anymore. Once Meredith started dating the vet, his looks became stares. She finally admitted to herself he'd been pinning. The glances, the puppy dog expression as he watched her, had been too much for her to acknowledge, but now he stared at her, almost obsessively, and she could see the jealousy, the anger, the hurt, the regret and the pretence. The pretence that everything was okay. And he pretended, and she pretended, and he hurt and she hurt, and Meredith was blissfully ignorant. And for a while she waited, for a while she hoped he'd forget her, because that's all she had left, hope. But watching him watch her, the hope fell away. Watching him watch her, as they took the dog on walks they thought she didn't know about. Watching them have coffee, watching them talk, watching them enter the elevator. She never wondered what they talked about, she didn't care, the words were unimportant, because they were just as ignorant as she used to be.

They both believed no one else knew they still had feeling for each other. They hid it from themselves as well as everyone else. But everyone knew. Everyone saw it, most saw it before Addison. But the two went about their day blissfully ignorant. And Addison could do nothing but watch. She gave up. It wasn't that she didn't care, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

When she'd first come to Seattle, she hadn't realised the depth of his feelings, and when he chose her, she thought it was because of love, not obligation. Choosing her had been an obligation to his wedding vows, an obligation to his wife. She was a wife. He no longer saw her as Addison, or even Dr. Shepherd, just his wife and the obligation that came with a wife and a marriage. To try and make it work, avoid a divorce. And like she'd fooled herself, he fooled himself that he was making an effort. But he wasn't and she realised his heart wasn't in it. His heart was with Meredith, it hadn't been hers for a long time. Long before Meredith, long before Seattle, even before Mark.

Mark. She missed Mark. She missed waking up with someone that was glad to wake up with her. She missed someone looking at her the way Derek looked at Meredith. She missed someone noticing her, beyond being a surgeon. She missed feeling loved, she missed being touched, she missed kisses, lingering kisses, quick rushed kisses, she missed someone caring. She missed Derek.

She waited, she waited for his feelings fade, for him to move on but eventually like she knew it would, she gave up. She gave up trying to make the marriage work, she gave up wanting the marriage to work, she gave up wanting Derek, and she gave up hope. She'd given it her all, and he hadn't and she had to face the fact her marriage was over. And she did, and she panicked and she called Mark.

And he came, like she knew he would. She'd booked a hotel room; she used the joint credit card, wanting Derek to find the evidence in the bill. She no longer cared. She wanted him know, wanted him to hurt. But as she handed over the card, she knew he wouldn't. He'd accept her adultery; she'd play the villain. She hated that she was okay with that, that she didn't mind letting him play the role of the wronged party, getting the sympathy while she got the looks, the whispers, the comments behind her back. She no longer cared. And he wouldn't care, and he'd feel betrayed and she'd let him, because she no longer cared.

She cried while she waited. She sat, alone in the centre of the bed, her heels kicked off on the floor, staring at the door as she cried. And Derek rang, and she cried more, throwing the phone at the wall, startling her self as it smashed into pieces the room suddenly silent. Her tears stopped, and in the silence she stood up. Ignoring the phone now in pieces on the floor, she walked past the debris and into the bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the harsh glare of the florescent light on her skin unforgiving, her eyes smudged; she attempted to fix the damage. She didn't know how long she stared at her reflection, but she studied every feature wondering when Derek had stopped loving her. That Christmas they went to her parents, the charity benefit they'd attended where he'd left early after an argument. She wondered whether he'd loved her before her affair. Had that been the nail on the coffin, or was it over before then? How long would they have gone on, pretending they were happy in New York? She'd been the one to put an end to the charade in New York with Mark, and she was going to be the one to do it in Seattle.

Because Derek would never do it. He was indifferent towards her. And she hated him. Because she still loved him. She still felt something, even if it was hate, the feelings were still there, she still felt something for him, and emotion, a strong emotion, and that was worth saving, worth attempting to save. Hate comes from the same place as love, that depth of emotion. But indifference…..he didn't care. And that was worthless because then there's nothing to save. And she knew it, and as much as it killed her, she had to give up.

The knock on the door startled her. Leaving the bathroom, she noticed the only light in the room coming from the lampshade by the bed, evening had set in, the window now dark. Not bothering to check the peep hole, she slowly opened the door, allowing the creak to break the silence and stillness, the emptiness of the room and the light from the corridor lit the room. Leaning against the door frame she stared at the man before her.

"Addy." She smiled as she studied his expression. There was the look, the look she needed, the look she missed, the look that someone cared, that for the first in a long time someone was happy to see her.

"Mark." And she opened the door to him, allowing him in. He hadn't brought a bag, she noticed. She fantasised that the second he'd got her call; he'd dropped everything, left his patients, already in a cab on the way to the airport when she'd hung up.

"I've missed you Addy." He confessed as she closed her door, her eyes never leaving his, her back to the door.

"I know," she answered, the hint of a smiled forming on her face. This is what she needed, she needed to be missed, she needed to be loved, she needed someone to look at her the way Mark was, to look at her and see her, and not pretend she was someone else.

"Why am I here, Addy?" He asked stepping towards her, his hands finding her waist as he stared deep into her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time Derek had held her gaze like this. Actually looking at her was a novel experience, but to stare at her, into her, for anyone to do it, had been a long time.

She didn't answer him, the aftershave was the same, the leather jacket the same, his hair a little longer, his eyes still just as determined, and his arms just as strong. And suddenly it was all too familiar, and her mouth found his, and again it was familiar and it was good. And he wanted her, he needed her, in a way Derek didn't. And she wanted to be needed, she needed to be wanted. Pinning her against the door, their lips parted for air and he kissed her neck, repeating his question barely a whisper in her ear.

"Why am I here, Addy?" He kissed her neck again, her eyes closed, enjoying the kiss, enjoying him, needing him.

"I need you." She admitted. She'd barely finished the sentence before his lips captured hers again, lifting her up, her legs wrapping around him, the strong arms she needed holding her as he carried her to the bed. Laying her down, he lent over her, staring at her. Like Derek stares at Meredith, she realised smiling sadly. She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. She'd missed it; she'd missed the way Mark looked at her. Before she'd never allowed herself to enjoy it, the guilt consuming their affair, and as exciting and exhilarating an affair was, there was always guilt. But this wasn't an affair. You can't have an affair without a marriage. Their marriage was over, and there wasn't guilt anymore.

"What about Derek?" He asked, his thumb tracing her lips, not allowing her to answer as he kissed her. A lingering kiss, a chaste kiss, a rushed kiss, a longing kiss, a kiss she needed.

"He doesn't love me anymore."

"I love you" Mark answered not letting her look away, pinning her to the bed.

"I know," she replied.

"Do you love him?" Her answer wasn't going to affect the outcome of the evening. It would only affect later.

"I did." She replied. "Now, I'm not so sure."

"You must be sure of something, inviting me here."

"I'm sure my marriage is over." She answered truthfully. "I know I'm leaving him. I know he won't care. I know he'll be relieved."

"And where does this leave us, Addy?"

"On a bed, in a hotel room, paid for by my husband, your best friend, who's probably thinking about an adorable, little intern as we speak."

"If he's paying we should order room service."

"Hit him where it hurts, huh?" She joked but didn't laugh. It wasn't funny. Because it wouldn't hurt. He wouldn't care any more or less if they ordered room service. He wouldn't care they were together in a hotel room, slowly undressing each other. Nor would he care that they'd have sex, twice that evening and again in the morning. Nor would he care that she'd fall asleep in his best friend's arms, as he spent the night in the hospital working on a patient with Meredith. Nor would he care that's she'd beat him home by barely minutes, and be in the shower washing off his best friend's scent, so he wouldn't know yet. And he wouldn't care that she'd be cruel enough to invite him in with her. And he wouldn't care, because he'd be fantasizing about Meredith, and she'd be fantasizing about leaving him.


End file.
